Words to date: 41,206
Words to go: 8,794
Days to go: 9
Was this week as productive as before? Not really. Do I feel bad about it? Not really.
This week was especially difficult in a few areas because I’m writing about a time where not all that much happened. The juiciness of the beginning is long gone, and I’m currently wading in the middle of the story where not a ton of significant things happened during that particular month in my life — or so I thought. I found myself mentioning an event out of obligation to stick to a time frame of writing a memoir, when it would suddenly blossom into a life lesson or a realization about myself (remember, follow your thoughts).
For example: two puppies that my friend there had recently gotten ended up having Canine Parvovirus (a disease highly contagious among dogs with a mortality rate of about 90%). He refused to let them stay at the vet’s office because he didn’t have the money, but he also didn’t have the time to take care of them; therefore, that left me with the job of making sure they didn’t die — and I was super pissed about having that responsibility. The veterinarian showed me how to inject the IV needle into the PICC line of the puppy and how to give them medicine by shoving pills to the back of their throat. Although I hated all of the necessary medical things that needed to be done, what was I going to do? Let the puppies suffer and die because I didn’t want to play doctor? I remember being so upset and angry with my friend, but not really being able to pinpoint exactly why I was so raging. As I was writing what I thought was going to be a quick mention of the puppies, ended up being a rehashing of an argument I had with my friend, and I had that “ah ha!” moment three years after the argument occured. For almost a year before that I had been in and out of the hospital with my dad because of his cancer, and I watched the doctors deal with his PICC line and slew of medications. There was a point where if he wasn’t well enough to take care of himself but he still went home, he would need someone to handle his medical issues — and it was either going to be me administering everything or a nurse that would come by daily. I refused to do it. I knew that I was physically capable of doing these tasks, but for many reasons I could not take on that responsibility; and yet there I was, months later, taking on the same responsibilities for two dogs that weren’t even mine. And that’s when I put it all together: I knew exactly why I was so pissed about taking care of those dogs because it was spelled out for me in white and black.
God, I love writing.
Now, for something I learned from week 3 of NaNoWriMo:
Take a break when you need it:
Like I said, this was not an impressive week as far as word count goes. Life got busy, as it tends to do. All this week I had open classes (where parents come in and observe your class, and you and your children are expected to be spot on and perfect), so I did most of my writing in the morning and was too tired to do any in the evening. Yesterday I had to wake up early to go to a teacher’s conference and then come back and finish work, and I didn’t get any writing done that whole day; and this morning I decided that sleeping in an extra hour was more productive for me than writing. Sometimes you just need a breather. That being said, I’m going to crush my novel this weekend.
How has the third week been treating you? Happy writing, fellow Nanowrimos!